Done for an anon on Tumblr who asked for: 'there is nothing inside the dark, she chants as some kind of mantra.'

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The full moon shines brightly, lighting her path through the woods. She follows it eagerly. All day her skin's been itching, demanding she do something, anything. But not yet, not yet.

And when the full moon rose all that pent up energy broke loose, run, wander, be!

So she now walks aimlessly, her body swaying to the music of the wind whispering through the leaves. She hums along as best she can, but she can't quite catch the tune.

She nearly stumbles into an old hunting blind. Catching herself on the door she looks around. It's been used recently, even though it's not hunting season. She inhales deep. Ash, dirt, decay, all musty with age. The scent is familiar and she feels a hunger deep inside.

In the back of her mind there's a logical part of her that is worrying and freaking out. It's not normal for girls to go wandering around at night wearing next to nothing. But there is something else inside of her that chants: 'There is nothing in the Dark, nothing that can hurt you.'

She leaves the blind and continues on.

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The moon is high in the sky when she comes across the fire.

She huddles as close as she dares, barely sparing a glance for the man on the other side. Only truly noticing him when his hand places itself on her shoulder.

Turning her head she looks into blue-turning-red eyes as bright as the sky. She inhales. Ash, dirt, and decay swarm around her. He is the one.

His skin tastes sweet as she kisses it, as he pounds into her. He is whispering things in her ear, but words mean nothing, are nothing; she does not comprehend him. She clutches tightly to him, he is warm, warmer than the fire.

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Dawn breaks.

Lydia blinks back tears as she opens her eyes, not remembering leaving the curtains open. When they clear it's not her room she sees, but the woods. And if the warmth on her back is any indication she's not alone.

She glances down her naked body to see a familiar arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed across her scars. With a fond, but exasperated sigh she slowly turns herself around to face him.

Peter's still deep in sleep, or at least appearing to be. She nestles closer, wrapping her own arms around him. "We need to stop meeting like this," she mutters.

His chuff of laughter places him solely in the 'pretending to be asleep' camp. "I don't mind."

She rolls her eyes and gives a playful shove. "Of course you don't you beast."

He smiles. "Always."

There is nothing in the Dark, nothing that can hurt you. Not with the Beast at your back.